


The Nature of Belief

by oninofukuchou (OrderOfRevan)



Category: Hakuouki
Genre: Canon Dialogue, F/M, Fury Transformation, Hamamura Mikoto - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:20:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23585263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrderOfRevan/pseuds/oninofukuchou
Summary: Hamamura sees Hijikata transform into a Fury and faces real consequences for her own actions.Later, Hijikata lets her know it's okay to mourn the parts of yourself you needed to let go to realize who you really are.
Relationships: Hijikata Toshizou/Original Female Characters
Kudos: 7





	The Nature of Belief

**Author's Note:**

> Some of the only canon dialogue I will keep word per word.

A shiver traveled down her spine, as cold and wet as the winter wind and a feeling of unease settled in her stomach as she stepped into the clearing. Around her corpses were littered across the forest floor, shot through by the enemy that still stood in front of her. She recognized them, their crisp black uniforms somehow standing out even more than sky blue stained with rust red. 

Rage filled her at the sight, hot and nearly blinding, but not so much so that she didn’t slip back behind a nearby tree. It took a great deal to quell the shaking in her hands as she thought about all those lives - lives entrusted to her - that had been lost on a futile mission to retrieve reinforcements. Bitter bile rose in her throat, which she swallowed with great difficulty before moving from tree to tree to get closer to her enemy… 

The Choshu soldiers of the Imperial Army. 

She could hear them gloating as she grew nearer, talking about how samurai were much less fearsome when faced with a rifle. They were finally exacting their vengeance for years of crossroads killings that had been long since illegal underneath the Tokugawa, though difficult to enforce in the more rural parts of the country. Samurai were an outdated concept and her men had died like the pitiful dogs they were, put down for victimizing innocent livestock. 

Unable to take it any longer, she drew her longsword and leapt from her hiding place, running one of the men through with a shout. 

He was dead before he hit the ground. 

The other men didn’t seem to know what to make a lone warrior charging them as if half-mad, and Mikoto took advantage of that. Kicking forward, she drove her sword into another of the men’s shoulders with a single elegant arc of her blade, relishing in the sound of his scream of pain. 

“Load your weapons, men!” Someone shouted from nearby, but they were just a scouting party and she had the drop on them; this time they wouldn't be so lucky. 

Wasting no time on introductions, she kicked at a nearby soldier’s legs to catch him off guard and then swatted at his hands with her blade. He dropped his rifle, which she kicked away hard enough that it misfired and shot another of the men in the leg, sending him down to one knee.

In the distance, she became aware of the sounds of battle drawing closer.

Gen-san? 

Taking a punch to the gut, she narrowly dodged the end of a bayonette as she caught her breath, relief filling her at the sight of several blue coats rushing over the hilltop like high tide. They descended on the men with a fury surely motivated by the sight of their own dead, oni in their own right as their blades caught the Choshu scouts off-guard. 

Their distraction gave her time to focus on the men before her more fully, engaging herself with her enemies the way she’d been taught so long ago. Her first real kill had nearly destroyed her, but now taking a life had become something she could do without much thought in the moment, something that was necessary once you realized you were just as likely to be killed as you were to kill. 

In the past, she had been fortunate their job was to arrest before it was to kill, but this was war now and she couldn’t afford hesitation. 

Least of all the woman who had been entrusted with such a serious duty by the Oni no Fukuchou himself. 

As the last man fell, she wiped blood from her face and looked up to meet the concerned eyes of Gen-san. Breathing heavily, she flicked the blood off her blade and replaced her weapon at her side, approaching him with a weary smile. 

“No one told me it would rain blood today, but I suppose I should have guessed,” she laughed, the sound hollow even to her own ears. “It’s been doing that a lot lately, hasn’t it?” 

Gen-san’s smile was heartbreaking, and Mikoto swallowed the lump in her throat as she looked down at the bodies… Her men, her responsibility… She would bury them with her own hands if she had to. They would be given that much respect, if she could help it… 

And at least they had died fighting. 

That was all a samurai could hope for in these situations, she supposed. 

“I’m glad you’re okay, at least, Hamamura-kun,” Gen-san said in his kindly voice. “Toshi-san would never forgive me if I had let anything happen to you.” 

She was about to object but cut herself off when a shiver traveled down her back, as if someone was watching her. It was a feeling she was all too familiar with, that she had personally experienced at both Ikedaya and Hamaguri Gate, among other places… The creeping sensation of the eyes of a predator stalking its prey. 

“Get down!” she shouted, but her words were not fast enough as men with red eyes and silver-white hair dressed in the Imperial fatigues darted through the twilight world around them. 

They brought with them a plague of death, one that did not require a blade but could be delivered perfectly well through clawed fingers and sharpened teeth. Their presence demanded all of her attention, training her senses to avoid dying, though she was nowhere near a good enough swordsman to survive for long. 

She knew this, Gen-san knew this, the two of them standing back to back as black-glad death rained down upon them. 

Death screams filled her ears, their only advantage the fanatical lust for blood that expressed in the presence of the carnage. Even with that distraction, it was only enough for her and Gen-san combined to bring a few of them down and there were more than a half dozen swarming their position at the bottom of the hill. 

“You need to run, Hamamura-kun!” Gen-san shouted to her over the sounds of death and dying. “Someone needs to let Toshi-san know that the enemy has a Fury Corp of its own!” 

Mikoto cursed, part of her refusing to give up here, though she knew full well he was right. Still, where did he think she was going to run to? Where could she possibly go when any one of them could outrun her and kill her in seconds if she so much as turned her back?

Either way, if they died he would have his ways of knowing. 

Hijikata always had eyes on the horizon. 

Grunting, she managed to barely deflect another attack of incredible strength that made her bones ache from the vibrations. There was no way she or her weapon could take much more of this, her energy flagging even as she refused to give up the fight… Until she heard the ungodly scream that a mad-eyed Fury only let out upon death. 

Her head spinning, she only saw a blur of black and white moving from its position before the former men turned monstrosities began to drop around them both, heads lopped from their shoulders, run through with a blade. Throat thick, she grasped her blade hard and pressed herself back to back with Gen-san as the last Fury fell to the ground, motionless. 

Even before he stopped moving long enough to cast his disdainful red gaze their way, she knew who it had to be - Their unlikely and most definitely reluctant savior, an enemy of the Shinsengumi and all Furies… 

“Kazama Chikage,” she grunted, refusing to let down her guard long enough to show any vulnerability in front of him. “To what do we owe the pleasure?” 

“Ah, it’s you,” the oni said boredly, lazily flicking the blood from his sword, though he examined the blade for imperfections rather than return it to his side. “So you’re the fools who were being massacred by those false oni. I should have figured when I detected the scent of overwhelming failure.” 

Mikoto said nothing, her jaw clenched as she glared at him, tensing when he took one step towards them… And then another. His expression turned curious, and then he started to laugh, reaching out to seize her face in one of his hands before forcibly turning her head from side to side. 

She was so stunned she couldn’t move, only stare up at him as that laughter turned deeper. 

“Are you… a woman?” he suddenly asked. “So the Shinsengumi has a kept woman amongst their midst, do that? And one who runs around so brazenly?” 

He dropped her the moment Gen-san’s sword whipped out from the side in an attempt to hit him, which he dodged as if someone had done nothing more than swat him with a paper fan. Still, his eyes narrowed in anger, the first expression other than sheer smugness that had broken the calm waters of his face. 

“You dare strike at me, gnat?” he asked, leveling his sword at Gen-san with a flourish, though the anger was gone just as soon as it had arrived. “When will humans learn not to trifle with us? Very well. I shall grant you the death you desire.” 

“Gen-san--” Mikoto began, only for him to shake his head. 

“You need to get back to Toshi-san,” he told her again, more emphatic this time. “Only one of us needs to distract him long enough for the other to escape… So please… Tell him thank you.” 

This wasn’t necessary.

There was no promise that Kazama would have fought them, though his personal history certainly indicated he would. He’d killed many members of the Shinsengumi, and now… Now he was going to end Gen-san’s life, just so that she could make an escape and let Hijikata know about the Furies…

Before she could even protest, Inoue Genzaburo of the Shinsengumi was charging the oni lord as if a fire had been ignited inside of him. His blue coat stained with red reminded her somehow of the sky and of their banner all at once. Her palms grew sweaty as she took one step back… and then another … before turning around only to find that she could not possibly leave him behind here to face his death alone. 

Mikoto swallowed hard as her logic battled with her deep affection for the the man, her choice made for her the moment she heard Gen-san grunt in pain. 

She spun back around and faced Kazama Chikage just in time to see him kick Gen-san to the ground and watch as he blocked Kazama’s blow with the very edge of his blade at the last second. Without interference he would surely die, and as a member of the Shinsengumi that was the one thing she absolutely could not allow. 

She unsheathed her wakizashi and threw it in the oni’s direction with all her might.

It sailed through the air, her aim true, and though the oni deflected it with ease, it gave Gen time enough to recover by rolling to his feet. He didn’t squander the chance to make something of the, charging towards Kazama with a mighty cry. They went blow for blow for a few minutes, though each strike of Kazama’s blade wore him down, just as strong as any Fury… Maybe stronger. 

But his admirable last stand could not last forever. 

All Mikoto could do was watch as the oni’s arm shot out as fast as any bullet and knocked the sword from Gen’s hand. It went sailing through the air and by the time it hit the ground, Kazama had run Gen-san through … And in spite of that, the Shinsengumi Captain still tried to fight, reaching out as if to claw at the oni’s face. Kazama only laughed, grabbing one of Gen’s hands to crush it, grinning at the scream of pain that burst from between his lips.

With a single shake of the oni’s arm, Gen tumbled to the ground, sliding from the sword and hitting the ground with a wet thud. His dark eyes still found her, pleading with her to run, but she was frozen in place from the shock and terror of it all, trembling as she gripped the hilt of her blade in white-knuckled hands. 

Kazama loomed above him, wearing a smile gleaming with malice, before he drove his blade down through Gen’s chest one last time. The Shinsengumi Captain coughed up blood, eyes clouding over as his body shuddered and he drew his last, wheezing breath before falling completely still. 

Hatred boiled in her stomach, her entire body tensing as she stared at her fallen companion. He had been so kind… Among the kindest of the Shinsengumi, since the very beginning, like an older brother or uncle to everyone there. 

And now he was a victim of Kazama Chikage, and for what? 

Biting her lip to drive away her tears, it was only when she tasted blood that she felt she had finally regained the ability to speak. 

“Are you happy now, you bastard?!” Mikoto said, her voice rough with fury as she jabbed the tip of her blade in his direction. “Or won’t you be satisfied until the ground is blanketed in blue and white?” 

Kazama looked at her and then snorted, “I couldn’t care less about your stupid human war,” he said, “outside of how its existence means I am no longer indebted to your pathetic excuse for a species. This worthless man challenged me and now he has paid the price. There is nothing more to it than that.” 

“Worthless?!” the word hissed between her teeth like a threat, her grip on her sword tightening. “You’re the worthless one, you son of a bitch!!” 

Amusement flickered across his face, reflected deep in vibrant red eyes, blocking the first blow she levied at him as if shooing away a pesky insect. She brought her weapon down on him again and again knowing that she would only succeed in wearing herself out but unable to stop herself as her feelings spiraled out of control.

And yet he never gave her the dignity of treating her like a real warrior, refusing to take her as a threat, that damned smile widening with every single second that past. Only when her clothing was clinging to her from sweat and her attacks began to flag did he finally knock her weapon out of her hand, his blow hard enough that she could feel the bones in her hand shudder on impact. 

Still grinning like the oni he was, his pointed teeth glinting in the orange light of the fading sun, he grasped her wrist and tugged her closer so that they were practically nose to nose. 

“Worthless, am I?” he asked her. “You’re a mouthy little human, I’ll give you that, but it won’t save you from the fate you’re sure to share if you don’t remember your place.” 

“And what place is that?” she asked only for her voice to be silenced by a cry of pain as he tugged her upwards, suspending her over his head with a single arm. 

She could have sworn she heard a pop. 

“You’re a woman,” he said with a sneer. “You never should have come into my sight, and yet here you are prancing about as if you’re one of these men. If you wish to avoid death, you should return to whatever hovel you crawled your way out of and keep your nose out of those things which do not concern you.” 

Tears of pain streaming down her face, Mikoto found she had no ability to respond to him eloquently and decided on the next best thing. Taking a deep breath, she gathered as much saliva in her mouth as she could before spitting squarely in his face. 

“Fuck off,” she said through clenched teeth, though it came out as a wheeze of pain. 

Visceral rage shuddered through him as he dropped her in an unceremonious pile, wiping his face with the sleeve of his kimono. Using the temporary distraction, she tried to crawl away using her good arm by dragging herself through the dir, but he stopped her in her tracks when he seized her hair and tugged her head back, exposing her neck. 

The glinting tip of his blade pressed to the skin of her neck and she braced herself to die, but at the last moment he seemed to reconsider. Leaning over her, his blade moved away from her neck as he shoved her face down and seized her topknot, sending a spike of visceral terror through her stomach when she realized what was about to happen to her. 

The sound of sobbing women repeated in her head but she held back any hysterics of her own, brought back to the night Hijikata had cut the Geisha’s hair to prevent Serizawa from killing them. Refusing to give this bastard the satisfaction of seeing her broken, she kept her eyes focused on the ground in front of her and on keeping her breathing even. 

But all the preparation in the world could not help her withstand what she felt the moment she heard the blade slide through her hair, head growing lighter as the bastard oni severed her lest connection to her womanhood. Unable to choke back a sob, it was all she could do not to lash out at him again as she tried to maintain whatever composure she had left. 

After all, he still hovered at her back. 

Her long, dark, pony tail was cast onto the ground before her, the oni’s voice whispering in her ear with smug satisfaction that made her hate him even more than she did already, “never forget that an oni can take everything that matters from you, worthless woman.” 

Snapping her head upward she stared at him with as much venom as she could manage and grit her teeth, the image of Gen-san clawing at his face replaying in her mind. She was prepared to do whatever it took to make him suffer the way he’d made the entire Shinsengumi suffer, even wounded and disgraced. He’d killed so many and mocked their deaths, and there was no way in hell she could stand to see him go unpunished for that.

But before she could retort, another voice sounded from the top of the hill. 

“Touch her again,” Hijikata Toshizou thundered, “and I’ll cut your fucking head off.” 

She looked up and in that moment, Hijikata looked every bit the oni that Kazama was, his lips curled back into a snarl so visceral that she could feel it in the pit of her stomach. His eyes blazed with a fire that she could feel from them from where she sat, but at the same time there was a deep sadness in them, a grief that she felt resonate in her own chest. 

And yet in spite of it all she felt relief at just the sight of him, so much that it made her eyes sting.

He had come for her -- for  _ them  _ \-- 

They hadn’t been abandoned.

Of course they hadn’t. 

He would never leave them behind unless there was no other choice. If he thought for a moment that anything was wrong, he’d have come.

He always came. 

“Oh? It’s  _ you _ ,” Kazama raised his head to look at Hijikata. “Why must you swine insist upon throwing your lives away?” 

The fury in Hijikata’s eyes only intensified, not deigning to give a response as he drew Izuminokami with a whisper of steel and then charged Kazama Chikage with a wordless shout. Their blades clashed so hard that sparks flew between them, Hijikata drawing away temporarily only to drive at Kazama again, his second blow enough to make the oni stagger. 

“Throwing our lives away?!” Hijikata shouted, parrying Kazama’s first offensive strike. “How dare you say these men threw away their lives!!” 

Clicking his tongue, the oni was beset with another powerful strike, this one sending him stumbling for the power behind the blow. His eyes widened but he had no time to commentate as Hijikata drove at him again, forcing him to dodge not one strike but two, finally knocking Hijikata’s sword away as lightning flashed through his eyes. 

“Impressive,” Kazama conceded, dropping his blade to his side, a cold winter breeze rustling the dry grasses around them, “I did not think your kind capable of such a feat.” He smiled, a grin that turned savage as his teeth lengthened and four pointed horns grew from his forehead, rising from in between strands of his moonlight white hair. “Behold, mortal man, and tremble in gratitude. The moment you set eyes upon an oni’s true form shall be the moment of your death.”

Hijikata did not look impressed, but anger once again rippled across his features the moment Kazama charged at him, each blow taking visible effort for him to block. He was an excellent swordsman, and it frightened Mikoto to see a man she knew to be so versatile struggling to figure out what to do in response to the incredible speed and ferocity of Kazama Chikage. The oni’s laugh rolled across the hills, Hijikata’s furious cursing echoing through the trees in response. 

The two of them continued to dance, Hijikata’s stamina flagging with each step, though the anger in his eyes was far from cooled. Panting, he stumbled backwards and nearly tripped over one of the bodies, sweat pouring down his face as he narrowly blocked another of Kazama’s blows. 

She could see his arms trembling from the strain. 

Desperation swelled inside of her chest and her eyes darted around, finding the place where her sword had fallen. In spite of knowing she could do nothing with one arm, she knew she had to help save him, that if he died here the Shinsengumi would be doomed to fall, because without him there was practically no Shinsengumi at all… Especially not with Kondou-san out of commission in Osaka. 

No one could take his place. 

So she reached out, grasping her blade with her non-dominant arm and pushing herself slowly into a standing position. Legs shaking, eyes blurred a bit with the new pain that surged through her arm, limp from the shoulder, she nonetheless charged at the oni with a battle cry. 

Knocked aside without any preamble, she skinned her legs and arms as her clothing was pushed up and away from her skin in the fall. Hissing, she watched as the exhausted Hijikata swayed on his feet but nonetheless moved to attack Kazama again. 

This time, his grasp on his blade was so tenuous that it went flying from his hand, leaving him standing with the tip of Kazama’s blade pressed to his jugular. 

Kazama’s smile did not waver as he kicked Hijikata to the ground, Mikoto watching as her Vice-Chief landed on his back and just as quickly rolled over onto his feet. He grasped for Izuminokami, finding it and struggling back to his feet only for Kazama to lash out, drawing first blood as his blade grazed Hijikata’s shoulder. 

Stumbling from the weight of the strike, Hijikata was easy prey for another hit as Kazama seemingly simply appeared behind his back. The blow came down as if from heaven, sending Hijikata back to his knees with ease, drawing a shout of pain and rage that came deep from within his chest. His fingers dug into the dirt, dark eyes swimming with thoughts that she could only begin to guess at, his made seemingly made up after a moment.

Taking his hand full of dirt and rocks, he cast it at Kazama, who sputtered as his open mouth and eyes were filled with it. Hijikata took the chance to drag himself away, leaving blood on the soil, reaching with his sleeve to pull out a familiar vial of red liquid. 

It was the sight of that alone that gave the oni pause, now-yellow eyes narrowing on Hijikata, who grinned back at him like he was the one with the high ground. 

“The ochimizu?” Kazama asked incredulously. “Surely you can’t believe such a foolish gesture will mean anything in the end?” 

Hijikata only chuckled darkly, “foolish, huh? Like I give a shit what you think. You know… We’ve always been a pack of idiots,” his eyes sought her and he gave her a cheeky grin, pushing himself to his feet on unstable legs. “Funny you say that when we’ve been fighting for the impossible for so damn long.”

He held up the little bottle to the dying light of the sun and looked at it for a moment before turning his attention back to Kazama, “ we’re halfway up that hill. If I lose here, then we’ll slide all the way back down. You really think I’m gonna let that happen?” 

Kazama looked at him with a combination of scorn and disbelief, shaking his head from side to side. When he spoke, his voice was incredulous,“You really are an idiot if you think drinking the ochimizu will make you strong enough to defeat an oni.”

“Well,” Hijikata said with a familiar cocky grin, “you never know if you don’t try.” 

Tearing the cork out with his teeth, he spit it into the dirt, lifted the glass to the air as if to toast, and then slammed the liquid back in a single gulp. 

Resolved to do nothing but watch, Mikoto bit back any protests and watched as he did what he felt was necessary for the sake of the Shinsengumi. She knew beyond any doubt that what he said was true, and if things kept going as they were now all Kazama would need to do was wear him down to a wick to kill him. He needed more stamina, more power, to be on equal footing with him when he had unlocked the full spectrum of his abilities as an oni. 

It was because he did this out of a sense of duty that she could not bring herself to look away, even as his eyes went wide in pain and he fell back to his knees, clawing at his throat as if doing so could somehow relieve his suffering. 

She watched steadily, in spite of her own feelings of terror and disgust. 

She watched as his spine arched and he let out an inhuman scream that drove roosting birds from the trees and sent a deer skittering away in fear. Mikoto did not look away even when she saw his teeth lengthen to his fangs and the pale white of a Fury began to eat away at his hair, turning it as pale and as sparkling as the snow. Her eyes remained trained on him as he writhed on the ground and clawed at the dirt, his pants and grunts of pains finally subsiding as he fell still, fingers dug so deeply into the ground that she could see the ends of roots peeking through the gaps in his fingers. 

For a while all was silent except the whispering of the wind, even Kazama remaining frozen in place as they both stared at Hijikata. 

Then he stood, picking up Izuminokami from where it had fallen only to carefully wipe the dirt from the blade. When he finished he looked up and met Kazama’s eyes, his own flashing like a cat’s even as they burned red, as calm as they were angry in that moment. 

“You know,” he said, beginning to circle Kazama, “I’ve had enough of those fucking cowards in the Shogunate and I’m getting really sick of you god-damned oni.” 

His tone was conversational, so light that Mikoto could taste the danger in it, just like the time he’d talked to Itou the night they’d had the man killed. 

“So I’m not a ‘real’ oni? Why the hell should I care?” He laughed, and a smile split his face, dangerous and bitter, “not once in my damn life have they treated me like a real warrior.”

Kazama raised his blade defensively, pivoting bit by bit as he followed Hijikata’s movements with his eyes. There was a wariness to him, a static in his stillness like the air before a summer storm. 

“But hell --” Hijikata levied a shrug, then looked to the bodies clad in blue that still littered the cold winter ground, anguish flickering across his features, “where are you supposed to find a real warrior these days?” 

His eyes briefly fell upon the horizon, in the place where the sun would rise, the direction of Edo, “lotsa men who call themselves ‘samurai’ when all they do is sit around behind ten feet of stone in a castle and get fat. Only thing those sons of bitches care about is making sure the side they buddy up to is the side that’s gonna win.” 

All geniality fled from his features and he launched himself at Kazama, their blades meeting in a flicker of black and white that she could not possibly hope to track with her eyes. 

“We’re better warriors than any of those bastards!” Hijiakta shouted, and once more it seemed he had the upper hand, his new Fury strength more than a match for that of an oni. 

Those words resonated inside of her, and she used her good hand to drag herself to Gen-san’s body, closing his eyes and laying him to rest properly. In the corner of her vision, a flicker of blue and black were at war, the two tearing at one another like the summer and winter winds, creating a funnel of destruction that left the shambles of nature in their wake. 

When they finally stopped, Kazama was panting heavily, staring at Hijikata with genuine anger etched across his face. 

“I believe what I believe,” Hijikata said in a voice that made her heart shudder inside of her chest. “Nothing can change that, and I will never, ever retreat. That’s what’s brought us this far.” 

He fell back into position, as if goading Kazama to fight him, a grin on his face that was so manic that it sent chills down her spine…. Though his words still felt right, especially as she looked back on all the doubt and disdain they’d faced over the years. 

Mikoto knew she was right to believe in him, even now as he faced Kazama down with a Fury’s smile on his face. 

“Call us fake if you want, but if we push hard enough and don’t give up, eventually we become what we say we are,” his sentence ended with a grunt as Kazama lashed out at him, though it quickly turned into laughter, their blades locked together once more. 

“If I can defeat you now, as a Fury, then that means I,” his eyes darted towards her and he shook his head and pushed his opponent away with what looked like an effortless shove. “No, we - can become real oni, right?” 

And as Kazama let out a scream of rage of his own, Mikoto knew for certain that Hijikata was right and that perhaps an oni - just like a samurai - was something that one decided to be instead of something one was born into. 

* * *

“Hamamura?” he asked, finding her silhouette easily on the dark deck of the ship, trying to tell himself that it was just because there was a full moon and not because he’d taken the ochimizu.

Not waiting for her to respond he walked up to her, finding her with her arm in a sling wearing nothing but hakama over her kimono in spite of the icy wind. Her now short hair looked windswept, and she wrapped an arm around herself to keep warm, staring out in the direction of Kyoto with a conflicted expression on her face.

“Hamamura,” he said again, her attention snapping towards him, her expression wide eyed. 

“Hijikata-san…” she breathed, then looked away. 

Her cheeks were red. 

Sighing, he shrugged out of the coat he was wearing over his kimono and draped it over her shoulders, frowning deeply in her direction. Hamamura blinked up at him and blushed even more, dropping her head to stare at the railing in front of them, a perpetual frown traced into her soft features. 

“Come on,” he was careful not to touch the shoulder that Matsumoto-sensei had only just relocated, not wanting to cause further damage as she took it easy on the trip to Edo. “You need to come inside and get some rest. You can’t stay out here on deck all night.” 

She looked up at him, then, and though he expected her to say something jokingly incredulous she… didn’t. Instead, she just shook her head and bit her lip, shivering before pulling his coat more tightly around her shoulders, which looked smaller to him than they usually did. 

Hamamura was a strong lady, but right now she looked fragile… So fragile that he didn’t know what to do or how to talk to her. 

All he could do was step closer and hope she'd say something to make it clear to him what she needed. 

Maybe… 

Maybe there was something even a guy like him could give her, no matter how rough around the edges he might be. 

“It’s really over, isn’t it?” she asked him. “Not… Not just the life we lived in Kyoto, but my connection to my family. When we went to Tama and I ran into my father he really disowned me.” 

He didn’t need to ask where the thought came from, watching as she reached up to touch the uneven ends of her sword-shorn hair. It’d have been a problem if she weren’t a member of the Shinsengumi, a proud warrior just like the rest of them, but he realized that that might not matter to her… That maybe she wasn’t seeing it that way. 

To her, it might mean abandoning the last part of herself that was connected to her family. 

She’d lost her pride as a woman so completely, all because of that bastard Chikage. 

The fact that he hadn’t even considered that outside of the moment he saw the oni doing it and then pushed it from his mind brought him to shame. He should have noticed, no matter what else was going on in his head because of Yamazaki… Because of Gen-san… 

“Yeah,” he said, knowing that it wasn’t the most comforting thing to say but figuring she needed to affirm it was the truth in order to move on. Hesitating, he took another step forward and leaned out over the railing directly next to her, staring back out into the west, “but you’re not alone in this, Hamamura. Didn’t I tell you back then? We’ll take care of you. Doesn’t matter to us if your hair’s short or long -- As long as you want to stay, we’ve got your back.” 

He felt her eyes on him, saw her bat her eyelashes repeatedly in disbelief before she smiled. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as her expression turned shy and she bowed her head, seemingly in meditation. 

“You are the most caring man I’ve ever met,” she said at last, catching him off-guard. “Without you, I’d have been dead or disgraced a long time ago. I think you’re probably one of the only people in the world who would have given me the time of day… You and your motley band of bumpkins and misfits.” 

Caring…? 

He felt his face grow hot, turning towards her to stare in disbelief.

There was no joke this time, either. 

Mikoto just looked up at him placidly, starlight turning her normally topaz eyes into dark pools that reflected the milkyway back at him. He was almost tempted to tell her to stop saying shit like that, but it was that look on her face that stopped him, made him hold his normally barbed tongue. 

“I’m a woman who wants to be a writer and had to pretend to be a samurai to do it,” she continued, “that’s what I always thought… But you made me realize that I’d been letting the way other people spoke all my life get to me.”

She reached out with one of her hands, brushing her fingers over the back of his knuckles in a way that made him freeze. He thought about the time he held her in his arms just after her father had given the ultimatum to give up on her dream or else he would disown her as his daughter. 

It was the first time he realized that she was still smaller than he was even when she seemed so tall and proud. 

He was reminded of that now, looking at their hands. 

“But I am a samurai and a writer,” she continued, “and as long as I fight to be those things and don’t give up, it won’t matter what other people say. Without you… I’m just stuck in a rut as a serving woman. I might even give up and go home, but with you I have something more.” 

There was something in her voice, a hope that he remembered from some of the early days, back when he’d first found Kondou-san and realized he wasn’t alone. It was easy to get down on yourself, to imagine a worst case scenario universe where you were still the chronic fuck-up or some idiot stuck standing in place who’d never amount to shit. 

But when you remembered what you felt when you first realized your dream was possible… 

Then it was worth it. 

Especially when you found someone else who understood. 

“Someone I respect told me that I always felt like I wasn’t doing well enough because my heart wasn’t fully in anything I did,” he said, flipping over his hand to let her thread their fingers together, though he knew that he’d regret it later on. “He said that there was something else I wanted to do, and he was right, but that doesn’t mean there’s nothing I miss about being a medicine peddler or living in Tama.” 

He sighed, then decided it would be more comfortable for them both if he just put his arm around her shoulder. He’d done it before; granted it had been after drinking, and Kondou-san had been with them … 

But he’d still done it before. 

So he readjusted them both, realizing quickly that she was fucking freezing even with the coat, making him wonder how damn long she’d been out here alone. Refraining from saying anything about it, he decided to follow his line of thought. 

“I liked the freedom because I like to see different things and I like to learn. Peddling let me do that. I got a hell of a lot more fishing and writing done in Tama than I ever have in Kyoto, and the food in Edo’s a hell of a lot better than the food anywhere else, far as I’m concerned. Nothing beats my sister’s cooking,” except for maybe hers, but he wasn’t about to let that get to her head.

“I had to learn to let those things go. Maybe that’s what this is for you.” 

She leaned into him, turning her head to bury it in his shoulder, and for a moment all he could hear was the waves and the wind. It didn’t really matter to him because he knew she wasn’t the kind of person to not take in what he said, so he was patient and soaked in the silence between them. 

It was more comfortable to be with her than it ever had been before, and though he should probably find that worrying ... 

There was a part of him right now that needed the comfort. 

She wasn’t the only one having to mourn things, because as he sat there he realized that the vague thumping that he just barely noticed underneath the noise of the ocean was her heartbeat. It was a reminder that he was going to have to mourn his own humanity and learn to embrace what being a “fury” meant. 

Whatever form that took.

“You’re right,” she acknowledged, and he was thankful she could take his thoughts away from the things he didn’t want to think about… At least not right now, when the Shinsengumi needed him strong. “I’ve changed, anyway. There’s no way any man would ever take a woman as headstrong as I am, especially when there’s quite a few of them I could take in a fight.” 

Her laugh was more relaxed, and she closed her eyes as she leaned further into his touch. 

It’s where they both wanted her to be. 

Snorting, he gave no verbal response, afraid he would tell her that she was exactly the kind of woman he wanted, just because she was herself, and that he wouldn’t have her any other way. 


End file.
